Collection of Firsts
by amariys
Summary: Midorima was six when he first met Akashi. He was sixteen when he first had his heart broken. Pianist!Midorima. Complete.


**Title: **Collection of Firsts

**Writer: **Amariys

**Words count: **4419 words

**Fandom: **Kuroko no Basket

**Disclaimer: **Kuroko no Basket is not mine. No trademark infringement or profit meant from the writing of this story.

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Midorima was six when he first met Akashi. He was sixteen when he first had his heart broken. Pianist!Midorima. Complete.

**A/N:** This fic is somewhat inspired by _Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso_'s early chapters and I know the Chopin competition is held every five years, so let's pretend this story happened in 2014 instead of whatever year their Teikou era actually was. /shot

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><p>Midorima was six when he first met Akashi.<p>

There was an annual local piano competition for elementary school in their town and it was Midorima's very first one. The event wasn't big, but it was quite well-known since the winners would have a chance to compete in regional and even national level, so people in classical circle usually would attend it.

The competitors all had considerably high skills, but it was quite a good start for an amateur like him. Midorima had only learned piano for two and a half years. He had no expectation to actually win the competition—but he didn't have any intention to accept defeat easily, either. So he played meticulously on stage, getting so absorbed in the notes while the whole world seemed to disappear around him, and was quite astonished when he received standing ovation from the audience in the end.

He became the youngest winner in the history of that competition. People once again applauded when he received his reward, and they started to talk about his precise play. Some of them even started to call Midorima a human metronome—a silly nickname, in his opinion—but none of that actually mattered for him.

What mattered was what happened after the awarding event. When he was approached by a young boy around his own age—a boy with red hair and red eyes, almost like he was the embodiment of fire (or, _blood_)—who brought a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

The boy had smiled in a strange way. Midorima had never seen anyone smiling in a mixture of smug victory and childish enthusiasm before this. Then, before he could say anything, the boy had held out the bouquet towards him.

"Congratulations. Your play was beautiful."

"Ah, thank you," Midorima awkwardly took the bouquet and held it close to him. The flowers were fresh and fragrant. He recognized some of them—and realized they were _expensive_.

The smile on the boy's face widened for a fraction in answer, making it look almost like a grin, but there was something in his eyes that made Midorima decidedly uncomfortable.

"I'll be watching you from now on, Midorima Shintarou-kun."

With those words and without waiting for Midorima's reply, the boy started to walk away. The whole situation was too abrupt for the green haired pianist that he couldn't help but watching the other boy's back until he was engulfed in the crowd.

Still perplexed, Midorima dropped his eyes onto the bouquet in his hand. It was when he realized the color of the silk ribbon tying the flowers together.

It was red.

.

.

(That day, Akashi watched Midorima's play for the first time in his life and was immediately enraptured. For the first time, he finally found someone other than him who was just _perfect_. Someone who shone much more brilliantly than the others around them. Someone who might be worthy enough to be his _equal_.

He had no intention in letting this Midorima Shintarou go.)

.

.

Midorima hadn't met Akashi again after that. However, he always caught glimpse of red hair and red eyes in the audience's seat whenever he played and knew, without a doubt, that the other boy was truly watching him.

The flower bouquets tied with red silk ribbon which were always delivered to him at the end of his plays were rather telling too.

.

.

Midorima was ten when he was properly introduced to Akashi.

There was a big fundraising held by his father's hospital and Midorima was asked to come along, partly because he was already quite well known as a young pianist, and mostly because he was still expected to take his father's position one day.

For a boy like him, that event was really boring, but Midorima had long since known his place, so he smiled politely and introduced himself to whomever his father brought him to. These people were the big hits: influential people who could actually buy a small country with their money had they wanted to. Midorima had been taught the importance of making the right connection for far too long to act like a sulky brat.

None of his father's acquaintance actually left an impression on him though. Not until his father brought him towards a middle-aged man with blood red hair who was flocked by people like he was a particularly sweet cake to the ants.

(Midorima frowned when his stomach started to churn just from seeing that color, but he easily dismissed it with a smile when he was near enough.)

That man introduced himself as Akashi Masaomi. He had a deep pair of crimson eyes (and this time it was Midorima's heart which was acting strange) and a powerful set of jaws. His hand was firm yet gentle when he shook Midorima's much smaller one, as if they were equals. There was an air of authority around Masaomi, despite the visible crow feet on the corners of his eyes, that made Midorima certain he would never accept anything other than perfection.

It fit with the image of Masaomi that Midorima had entertained since the first time he heard his father talking about the man at their dinner table. He was the CEO of Akashi Group, a family corporation that slowly but surely had become largely influential in the whole nation and was planning to spread their wings internationally. He was, also, the biggest stake holder in Midorima's family hospital, which made the young pianist all the more certain Masaomi could get anything he wanted.

Once their introduction was over, Midorima wisely took a step back and let his father did the talk with Masaomi. Both of them were old friends from what he had heard, so Midorima really wasn't surprised when Masaomi's face looked a lot less scary while he listened to whatever Midorima's father was saying.

It wasn't until his father asked one particular question that Midorima finally paid attention to the conversation.

"So where's your son? I heard you were going to bring him here. I'd like to see the prodigy you're so proud of."

"He's already making his own network as we talk," said Masaomi. There was a smirk on his face that made him look almost gloating. "But I'm sure he can spare time for you two."

Then he turned around and both Midorimas could only watch as he walked towards a circle of crowd not too far away from them. He talked for a moment before the circle finally opened up and a young boy walked confidently out of it—like he was previously standing right at the center, capturing the attention of people years older than him with no effort at all.

The first thing Midorima noticed was the red of that boy's hair. The same red as Masaomi's and that was enough of a confirmation that this was _the son. _He couldn't help the widening of his eyes. Of course, the logical part of Midorima had expected this (the red hair and eyes, the expensive flowers, luxurious ribbons—not everyone could have them); but still, to see the boy who had carved his own place inside of Midorima's mind right in front of him was quite overwhelming.

There was a small smile playing on young Akashi's face. A smile that seemed to widen fractionally when his gaze met Midorima's. Except for that though, there was no noticeable change in his gestures at all.

"Rentarou, this is my son, Seijuurou." Masaomi announced with a wide smirk that could almost be called a smile. He gave a gentle push on Seijuurou's back, prompting the smaller redhead to move forward and bow down, in a manner that was far too extravagant as if he was a young prince from children fairy tales.

"Akashi Seijuurou. It's a pleasure to meet you, Midorima Rentarou-sama. Thank you for your co-operation with Akashi Group all of this time."

"Looks like Masaomi has taught you well, Seijuurou-kun," said Rentarou. The tease was gentle since it was accompanied by a grin Midorima rarely saw. "The pleasure's mine. Also, I want you to meet my son too. Shintarou, come."

When his father called him this time, Midorima could feel reluctance dragging his feet. For reasons he couldn't actually say, he was … unwilling to face the redhead—Akashi Seijuurou—again. Not when there was no competition or flower bouquets between them. Still, he could never ignore his father's call, so he hid his hesitancy to the best he could and stepped forward.

"Shintarou-kun." Akashi Seijuurou's face lightened up unmistakably when they were finally face-to-face. His soft spoken call was more than enough to draw their fathers' attention.

"You two have known each other already?" asked Rentarou in surprise.

"We've met on my first competition. This is the first time I've heard his name though," said Midorima. He could only hope his embarrassment couldn't be heard in his voice.

"I'm a fan of Shintarou-kun. I found myself mesmerized by his perfect play and I knew then Shintarou-kun would be famous. He has an amazing talent. I'm sure Shintarou-kun will be able to daze the world in the future."

The praises slipped out of Akashi's lips fluidly. His eyes staring evenly at Midorima's, watching silently as blood started to fill the other's cheeks, turning it pink in embarrassment. Akashi thought it was adorable.

(That was the first time Midorima actually blushed from being praised by someone else.)

.

.

"Now that we've been properly introduced, I think there's no point in asking other people to deliver the flower bouquets to me, Akashi-kun. I'd … rather received them directly from you."

Midorima's words were soft whisper brought to Akashi's ears by the cold night air. The black sky filled with countless shining stars was acting as their roof as they took refuge on the open balcony once their fathers left them to talk about more serious business. The request was quite unexpected, but not exactly unwelcome.

Akashi curled his lips into a smile.

"If that's what you want, Shintarou-kun."

(It was, Akashi considered, the first small step towards his victory.)

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.

Midorima was twelve when he got his first prescription glasses. It felt weird and heavy at first, but he was getting used to it quickly.

The first time Akashi saw him with glasses, he had lifted his brows and twitched his lips in what Midorima now could recognize as disapproval. In response, Midorima just scowled and pushed his glasses a little bit higher—a small gesture that would become his habit in near future.

"What?"

"I thought you know better than to let your eyesight be damaged."

"Shut up, Akashi. There's nothing wrong with wearing glasses and—what are you doing?" Midorima asked in bewilderment when Akashi crept closer towards him, getting far closer than strictly polite.

The question managed to make Akashi pause. He tilted his head aside, noting that Midorima's cheeks were once again flushed faintly, smirking at the obvious discomfort Midorima had shown.

"I want to borrow your glasses," Akashi smiled innocently—the kind that reached both of his eyes and making the crimson irises looked warmer than usual. "May I?"

Midorima's eyes narrowed because he wasn't that foolish to fall for Akashi's obvious trick, but he didn't say anything that could actually be refusal either. His silence was a begrudging permission, and Akashi knew it well, considering the way his smile turned into a smirk and how he resumed his movement.

Cold fingers brushed against his cheeks. Midorima's lashes fluttered close as Akashi gently pulled his glasses off of his face. Midorima only opened his eyes again when he could no longer feel Akashi's damp breath against his face. He wondered for a moment since when the air had grown so hot.

He managed to resist the urge to fidget in order to look up and to see what Akashi was doing instead. Then, he couldn't help the upward quirk of his brows or the curving curl of his lips. Akashi looked absolutely ridiculous with his eyes framed with Midorima's glasses—which was quite big on him.

"What are you doing?" he repeated the question although this time it was obvious he was amused.

"I want to see how it feels wearing glasses," said Akashi. "It's weird and I think I'm going to be dizzy."

"Of course. It's a prescription glasses, Akashi. You'll just damage your own eyes wearing it."

Akashi wrinkled his nose at that and Midorima insisted he didn't think it was adorable. "I think you're right. Thank you for at least letting me try."

"You're welcome. Is there any point in this other than to fulfil your own curiosity?" asked Midorima as he accepted his glasses back from Akashi's hand.

"Yes. At least now I know it'll be hard to play basketball while wearing glasses. I shall take better care of my eyes from now on."

"You're playing basketball? Since when?"

"I've just started. It's quite interesting. Maybe I'll get more serious in it." Akashi idly flicked at the blue marbles on a table in front of them—Midorima's lucky item for the day. "I'm planning to enroll in Teikou."

Teikou Middle School was an elite private school. They also had the best basketball team in the whole nation, Midorima remembered. Of course Akashi would enroll there. He never aimed for anything less than perfection—just like his father.

Midorima hummed in response. He hadn't really thought where to continue his study, being too focused in his piano lessons and competitions to actually care about that. So he really didn't have anything to say to Akashi right now.

"Why don't you go to Teikou with me, Shintarou-kun?"

But then Akashi would ask something like that. Midorima couldn't help the incredulous look he threw at Akashi. What was he planning now?

"Why should I?"

"Hm, because I'd like to spend more time with you."

"You spend enough time with me as it is. You come to my house every day!" Midorima spluttered. He hated how he could feel the familiar way of his cheeks warming up. They must be flushed red right now. Darn.

"True," Akashi shrugged as if his daily appearance in the Midorima's household was nothing big at all. "Well, just consider it, Shintarou-kun. I'd be very happy to go to the same school as you." He said with a dazzling smile before standing up and walking out of Midorima's room without anymore word.

A sense of déjà vu hit Midorima. _Akashi certainly loved to have the last words_, he thought in wry amusement before dropping his body onto his king sized bed. Suddenly his ceiling seemed very interesting and he spent indeterminable minutes looking at it before coming to a decision.

"At least Teikou has excellent teachers."

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Midorima was fourteen when he first learned about jealousy.

It was the second year of his middle school together with Akashi. The other had gotten better at basketball and was appointed as captain earlier this year. Midorima wasn't surprised when he heard that. He had known Akashi would take the position long before it actually happened.

Being a captain meant a lot of responsibility. Especially for Akashi, since apparently their basketball team this year was so incredible that people even dubbed them as Generation of Miracles. It was hard not to scoff at the childish nickname, but thankfully Akashi didn't seem offended when Midorima did just that for the first time.

Their time together in school was reduced almost drastically after that. Usually both of them would visit the music room during their breaks, where Midorima would practice scores for his latest competition while Akashi listened quietly beside him. Since he became captain, Akashi was so busy he didn't even have the time to spare for Midorima during the breaks.

Lately, Midorima had been practicing alone. Being accompanied with only the sound of his own precise play. The spot beside him was cold, but Midorima assured himself it didn't matter. There was only one thing he wanted to achieve: perfection—and he could do that with or without Akashi.

It wasn't like they never saw each other at school. They even still walked home together every day, no matter how late the basketball team's practice went for, and they always talked a lot during their walk.

So really, Midorima didn't miss Akashi one bit.

He was fine with Akashi drifting away from him in order to make their school's basketball team stronger; he knew their worlds had been separated ever since the redhead chose to immerse himself in the sport and he decided to stay with his piano.

Only … whenever he heard Akashi talk about his team members—those people called as Generation of Miracles—with that small, fond smile on his face, Midorima couldn't help feeling as if he had been stung. Akashi obviously cared about his team members, so much that he always had new stories about them every day.

Midorima wasn't included in that story. That fact hurt. Even more so because he knew he could actually be a part of it if he chose to let go of piano. He could be the vice-captain of the team. He could attend captain meetings with Akashi and, perhaps, play shogi together when they had nothing else to do.

But still Midorima chose piano. Because it was the first thing about him Akashi had called _perfect_.

And also because Midorima wanted to keep being perfect in the redhead's eyes.

.

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Midorima was still fourteen when he took his first big decision.

He asked Akashi to join him in the music room despite the other's tight schedule for the upcoming Interhigh. Midorima almost thought Akashi would gently refuse his invitation, but to his relief, he had just nodded wordlessly before following him towards the music room.

Once there, Midorima took his usual seat in front of the piano, but he didn't want to play. Not today. He only sat there in silence until he could feel Akashi coming closer and taking a seat beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other and warmth blossomed from Midorima's side.

He could feel Akashi's steady stare on him, but Midorima still couldn't find words to deliver the news he had. Half of him snidely thought this would be far easier if Akashi hadn't stopped coming to see his competitions this year.

"Shintarou-kun," Akashi said, once the silence had become too much even for them. Although there was no hint of annoyance in his voice. "What do you want to talk about?"

Midorima took in a deep breath. Well, this was it.

"I'm entering the Chopin competition next year. It'll be held in Poland and I'll stay there for practice until the day of the competition. There's an instructor there, Jacques. He was a famous pianist and he said he'd be willing to train me for the competition. So for two years starting on the next semester, I won't be here anymore."

The explanation escaped from Midorima in one big rush. He didn't even stop to take a breath. He was almost afraid Akashi hadn't caught the words, especially when silence settled down between them once he finished talking, but then he remembered this was Akashi Seijuurou. Someone who never missed _anything_.

"That's a big opportunity for you, Shintarou-kun," said Akashi at last. "This can be your first international debut. Congratulations."

"You're … alright with this?"

"Of course, why shouldn't I be?" Akashi asked with genuine confusion. He tilted his head slightly when Midorima mumbled something almost inaudible, before a chuckle escaped from him. "You're thinking too much. True, I don't really like the fact you've just told me this today, but that's my own fault. It's been a while since I last watched your competition."

"I don't mind," Midorima was quick to say it, not wanting to guilt trip Akashi into anything—which was an impossible feat anyway.

"I know," Akashi said, bumping their shoulders together gently. "Why don't you play one song for me, Shintarou-kun? I'll even forgive you for keeping this information for so long if you did that."

The corners of Midorima's lips twitched, but he just nodded sharply. "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything you want to play."

"That's not an answer," said Midorima in exasperation. When he saw Akashi simply grinning at him, he could do nothing more than grumbling under his breath. After a moment of consideration, the green haired man finally chose a song.

Akashi closed his eyes as Midorima started to play, recognizing the song as the classic he first heard in Midorima's first competition—the first time he ever heard the other play. Small smile curved his lips as memories of their first meeting and their time together from then on resurfaced in his mind.

Overcame with the sudden sense of nostalgia, Akashi gently leaned his head against Midorima's shoulder. He took deep breath, filling his lungs with scent of Midorima that he had almost forgotten. How long had it been since they spent time together like this? Akashi couldn't actually tell the answer, which in itself told him it had been _too long_.

"Maybe I'll miss you, Shintarou-kun," whispered Akashi. His voice was no louder than the sound of piano, so he wasn't really surprised when Midorima continued on playing as if nothing had happened at all.

He smiled. That was fine. Akashi would feel better if Midorima hadn't heard him. He wouldn't want anything to change between them, after all.

.

.

(If only Akashi had looked up, he would be able to see the way Midorima was blushing even to the tips of his ears. He would then realize his words had been heard after all.

Maybe, if that was what happened, then their story would end up differently.)

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.

Midorima only managed to get the second place in the Chopin competition. Apparently, his play was perfect, but not enough to be the best since the judges wanted someone who could actually did improvisation while following the scores _perfectly_—which was absolutely ridiculous in his opinion.

He could do nothing about that decision though. So Midorima accepted his reward wordlessly although he didn't bother pretending to look happy at all. He didn't have any fondness for Poland after that. It took only little time for him to decide to return home.

His parents immediately enrolled him in Shuutoku once he returned and there Midorima met someone named Takao who was totally different from Akashi but somehow still reminded him of the other.

Takao was a member of Shuutoku's basketball team member. He also played as Point Guard—the same as Akashi. But his personality was a complete 180 from the redhead. Takao was very cheerful and snarky. He was the type of person Midorima would usually think as annoying, but somehow still unable to shake off.

Takao was also the reason why Midorima decided to spare his time to watch the semifinal match in Winter Cup between Shuutoku and Rakuzan. If he wanted to be honest, it wasn't that hard of a decision. Ever since Takao had told him Akashi had now became the captain of Rakuzan team—the best team in nation—he more or less had made his decision.

It was almost pathetic—this silly urge of his to see Akashi again. Midorima couldn't help it though. He had _missed _the other. They hadn't managed to keep contact during Midorima's stay in Poland and although he knew Akashi must have changed, he still wanted to meet him.

The stadium was a lot bigger than what Midorima had originally thought. It was more crowded too, he could even see quite a few of television crews walking around, and the air was so intense Midorima actually got a shiver.

He had thought this feeling could only exist in his piano competitions. Evidently, he was very wrong.

When the players started to enter the court, the crowd became even more excited. Noises raised in the building, filling Midorima's ears with cheers and yells, beating the sound of his loudly thumping heart as he caught a glimpse of the familiar red hair for the first time in a whole year.

Akashi was there. Just few feet away from Midorima—but in a whole different world altogether.

As he watched the game starting, Midorima wondered at the fact that he had never seen Akashi's play beforehand. He had never been interested to see Akashi's world, despite the fact Akashi would never miss watching Midorima's competition if he could help it. It wasn't truly fair. But then again, Midorima was never the type to care about little things like that.

He didn't need to see Akashi's previous plays to know that this one was different though. This one felt colder—more precise and effective, true, but also almost heartless—as if Akashi was standing far above everyone else in the court instead of involved in it. His play was amazing, of this Midorima had no doubt, and the other four players in his team were great too, but this game… it actually felt wrong for Midorima.

There was no chance for his school to win this game—a fact he had concluded since the end of the second quarter. Rakuzan was untouchable and despite how hard Takao and the others were trying, there was just no way they could take that kind of perfection down.

Akashi had never lost. This Midorima knew well. However, that had never meant he would take victories for granted—he was not that cruel. Seeing this game was like seeing another Akashi. Someone Midorima didn't know instead of the boy who had first approached him with a bouquet of flower in hand and admiration in his eyes.

This someone was a stranger who didn't even crack a smile as he led his team towards their victory. This wasn't _his _Akashi.

Midorima had seen enough.

When the players all lined up for the final salutation, he was already walking away from his seat. Both of his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, unseen as they curled into tight ball of fists. Midorima walked away without looking back, although he had first meant to meet with Akashi before going home.

It was meaningless now. Even if they did meet, Midorima knew he wouldn't see the boy he had missed—someone who had been watching him without fail since they were six—and he had no intention in getting to know this stranger who had taken Akashi's form.

Midorima was sixteen when he first had his heart broken.

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**—End.**


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